You Were Chosen
by xiluvrock145
Summary: In seventy-four years, District 12 has had exactly two victors. One was Haymitch Abernathy, of course, but who was the other? What is her story of survival? Introducing District Twelve's first victor: Ayala Talons.
1. I Was One of Two

**A/N: The rest of this is probably not going to be up for a while. I just wanted to start the story by putting up the prologue. Enjoy. ;)**

* * *

_Prologue: __I Was One of Two_

_The cannons, the food, and the Opening Ceremonies. It was all a part of something I will never forget, no matter what happens._

_The Twenty-Fifth Annual Hunger Games, also known as the first Quarter Quell._

_I was only a wee little thing, just barely fifteen years old. I was the youngest daughter of two of a merchant, with only four entries in the reaping. But it turns out, entries didn't matter. That year was different, in form and structure. It was the year of the First Quarter Quell._

_Back then, I remember that I had no idea. We, in the outskirts of Panem in District Twelve, were oblivious to the Capitol's schemes. The Quarter Quell came as a shock to us all._

_So when my partner Rashid and I were thrown into the arena, I didn't really expect either of us to survive. We, unlike most of the other districts, didn't have a mentor to aide us in preparation, so a Capitol attendant was put in charge of us._

_Although we didn't do terribly in our training sessions, our interviews mostly failed to capture the glow we knew we both had._

_Even now, many years later, as I think back on my Games with remorse and regret, I am still wholly shocked. It must've been only by a touch of miraculous hope that I won. Something given to my life by something that I cannot even describe._

_So who really expected it? Not me, not Talley, not my family back at home. The only person who kept me going sacrificed himself for me, something I will never forget._

_My name is Ayala Talons, and I was the first victor from District Twelve. This is the terrifying story of how I was chosen._


	2. The Reaping

**The only thing in CF that was mentioned about the First Quarter Quell was that instead of being reaped, the tributes were voted for. So I started from there. Enjoy. ;)**

One: The Reaping

The thing about my parents is that when ever you _want_ them to do something, they don't do it, and whenever you _don't_ want them to do something, they do it. What is it with them? Are everyone's parents like this?

"Aw, come on," my mother exclaims, fingering the bright tan colored dress on my bed. "Don't you think it's pretty?"

I know one thing that I think would be the vista of prettiness to my eyes. The sight of that ugly piece of cloth in the trash can. I don't want to hurt my mother's feelings though, because I know she spent hours working so she could buy this for me. So I keep my mouth shut.

"Pretty's not exactly the first word I'd use to describe it, Mother," I say, biting my lip.

My mother's eyes bore into mine. "Ayala, you will wear this dress to the reaping tomorrow and that is final. Am I understood?"

I nod. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good." And with that, my mother leaves my room in a huff, muttering something about disobedient children and the reaping.

I'm about to sit down on my bed and collapse into a nervous slumber, but before I can, my older brother Mahalo walks into my room and beats me to it.

I grit my teeth in frustration and snap at him to get off my bed. I don't want to be yelled at again for having a messy room.

"Aya, calm down," Mahalo smirks. "It's just me. I would never mess up your precious little room."

"Mahalo, I mean it. Get out," I say. "I need some time alone, please."

"Aw, little bitty Ayala needs some alone time! For what? To think about the reaping tomorrow? Who cares? It's just one hour where they choose two kids to die. Bet you anything it'll just be one of those Seam children. No need to worry about anything." Mahalo walks out of my room and shuts the door.

He's right, of course. The Hunger Games have been going on now for twenty five years and every year, it's just the same thing over and over again: two kids from the Seam getting selected to die. Occasionally, there's been a merchant kid, like me or Mahalo, but more than likely this year it'll be Seam children again.

Mahalo has no reason to worry, and neither do I. This will be my fourth reaping and his sixth. We've both managed to bypass the selection each year. No big deal. So why I am so worried?

Maybe it's that warning I got from my friend Cory yesterday, during lunch. We were just sitting together, picking at our sandwiches, when he suddenly said, "Ay, don't you have this strange feeling that something weird is going to happen this year?"

"What do you mean?" I inquired, a bit confused.

"Well, it's year 25, right? Isn't that a pretty good number for a surprise? I don't know how to explain it, I just know that something will happen the day after tomorrow at the reaping," he explained.

I gulped. "Do you mean someone we know we get chosen?"

"No, no," Cory shook his head. "I just think that maybe the Capitol will do something different this year, maybe give us a break or something. Cancel the Games or ditch District 12."

"Why on earth would they do that?" I laughed.

"I know, right?" Cory joined me in laughing.

But now I know what Cory meant. I'm starting to get the same feeling in my stomach too. I wonder what that means.

* * *

It's the day of the reaping. The entire population of District Twelve is lined up in the square, restless to tears. Adults are standing off to the side, watching the stage in front of the Justice Building anxiously to see whose names will be called. Kids, ages twelve to eighteen, are roped off into sections and talking in hushed voices with their friends, wondering who will be chosen this year.

Cory is standing next to me, running his fingers through his hair. He doesn't seem as nervous as most of the other fifteens, although he was the one who pointed out the whole thing of being different to me. Maybe he has tried to forget about it. Maybe I should too.

Before I know it, the clock is striking two and the bongs are echoing in my ears painfully. A pale man steps up to the podium and introduces himself. It's Mayor Overhand, District Twelve's mayor. I know his daughter, Araya. The only reason I know her though, is because her name is so similar to mine. She seems nice enough, though. But I know she won't be chosen today.

After Mayor Overhand welcomes us to the reaping and finishes reading the history of Panem, up steps forward a tall, lanky woman in a blue wig named Talley Marshesta, who is the Capitol escort for District Twelve. I wait impatiently for her to giggle obnoxiously and wish us a happy Hunger Games, but she takes her precious time walking up slowly to the podium and keeping a straight face.

What's going on? Usually Talley is all happy and excited for choosing the names, but today her mood is surprisingly somber. I wonder if she's finally getting tired of choosing the tributes. It makes sense to me, and it's probably what all the other teenagers are thinking about this.

Talley adjusts the microphone at the podium and looks out at the crowd. "Hello, everyone. My name is Talley Marshesta and, normally, I'd be here to choose the two tributes from District 12 to enter the Hunger Games."

Normally? What does she mean by, normally? Maybe Cory was right. Something special _is_ going on this year.

"But this year, the Capitol has arranged something special for you all. As you know, this is the 25th anniversary celebrating the rebellion." Talley forces herself to put on a majestic smile. I can tell the fakeness of it by the stretch in her cheekbones. "So this year we are starting something special called the Quarter Quell."

Murmurs start flying around the square uneasily. I know that we're all thinking the same thing: _What the hell is the Quarter Quell?_

"The Quarter Quell is a special Hunger Games that will happen every twenty-five years, from here on forward. Each Quarter Quell, the Capitol will spice up the rules of the reapings, to keep make the celebration more exciting," Talley says. Her smile is back, now that the news is out.

_Okay, whatever, _I think to myself. She's probably just going to reap the names in a different way or whatever. It's no different from previous years.

"So this means that this year is the First Quarter Quell," Talley nods to herself, then looks back at the mayor for approval to continue. Mayor Overhand looks a little pale, so it's obvious that he didn't know about the whole Quarter Quell thing. However, he just nods to allow Talley to go on.

Talley pulls out a small envelope labeled '25' and daintily opens it. Apparently, she doesn't know what the special event for this year is either. This is the first time anyone in District Twelve is hearing about it.

"The First Quarter Quell is as follows. Instead of a drawing of names out of the reaping balls like normal, the citizens of each district will vote on which boy and which girl will attend the Hunger Games. Each citizen must vote once for a boy, and once for a girl, no more and no less. Remember that tributes voted for must be twelve through eighteen years old, as normal."

The news slowly sinks in. Cory and I glance at each other in horror, as do most of the kids in the ropes in the square. Grief-stricken adults are already beginning to show signs of panic by the way they glance at their children. The Seam children initially appear to be relieved that the number of entries in the reaping balls do not matter, but then they realize that they still have a chance of being chosen.

We will have to voted for. To die. And knowing my luck, the odds are not in my favor of not being chosen.

* * *

Who would want me gone? My brother Mahalo, maybe. Or maybe some of the Seam kids who think that all merchant children are spoiled pieces of trouble. But I can't bear the thought that anyone would want me to be sent away to be killed.

Cory is clutching my arm as we walk in a single file line to the table in front of the Justice Building, to vote. Who should I vote for? I don't want to vote for anyone. I don't want to watch anyone die, period. But since we are the rebels of the districts, the Capitol must punish us be doing this Quarter Quell. I can't believe that I actually thought that this wouldn't be any different.

He was right. Cory's always right. He knew that something would be different this year and he was right. I can't believe this.

The only thing that is keeping me sane is that fact that I know that I won't be chosen. I almost laugh at the thought. There are thousands of girls in District 12 that are just as likely to be voted for as me. Chances are that siblings will vote for each other, and maybe for the opposite gender, kids will pick a kid from school that they hate. I know that's what I will do. But what about the adults? I know they won't vote for their own children. And I haven't even began to think about the old citizens of District 12, the ones with no children. Who or what will influence their voting?

Cory is pinching my arm, telling me something, but I'm not listening. We're at the voting table now and Talley is handing us each two slips of paper and a pencil. "Good luck," she whispers solemnly.

On the first piece of paper, I scribble down my brother's name, _Mahalo Talons._ Mahalo won't get chosen, so I might as well vote for him to go. I am stuck on what the write for the girl's choice, though. Should I write myself? That way I wouldn't be hurting anyone, and the decision will be made. But I realize I am way too selfish to do that, so I write down _Reema Mellark, _the baker's daughter. I won't miss her is she gets chosen.

Cory looks up just as I am sticking the folded slips of paper into the corresponding boxes sitting next to Talley. I nod a curt good bye to him and go to stand with my parents. I have nothing to say to him.

My mother wraps me in a hug when I approach her, but I push her away immediately. What's the point? I'm fine, and so is Mahalo.

Speaking of Mahalo, here he comes right now. "Who'd you vote for?" he asks me.

"You," I reply nonchalantly. "Oh, and the baker's daughter, Reema."

"I voted for you, too," Mahalo replies with just as much neutrality. "And I voted for your little friend, what's his name, Cory Grimessa."

No. No way.

My eyes widen furiously. "How dare you," I hiss at him. It takes all I can not to smack my hand across his perfect face. "You inconsiderate freak! How dare you vote for him! He's practically my second brother!"

Mahalo tilts his head and snaps at me. "Relax, Ayala. He won't get in. And I couldn't come up with anything else off of the top of my head. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone about your huge crush on him."

My mouth opens and closes heatedly. Right now, the Capitol is far away in my lists of hates. Mahalo is number one.

"If he is chosen, I will personally escort you to the Peacekeepers' office to be executed," I spit.

Mahalo continues to glare at me, shaking his head. "I wouldn't have told you if I'd known you'd get so freaked out about it. Goodness."

"Children." My father's soft voice interrupts Mahalo. When I turn around to look up at him, I see that his wrinkled face is streaked with worry.

"What's wrong?" I ask, but I already know the answer.

"Nothing," my father answers. "Let's go home. They're going to announce the results in an hour. No point in just staying here."

"Okay," Mahalo and I agree, and so we begin the short walk home from the square, anxiously awaiting our destiny.

* * *

**Cliffhanger? I know. Review? Thank you. :)**


	3. I Am Chosen

**A/N: Thank you all for all the feedback. It really encourages me to keep writing for you guys. This chapter is kind of a filler one, but you get to meet the other tribute! Yay!**

Two: I Am Chosen

Exactly one hour later, my family is back in the square, anxiously awaiting our district's results. They let us sit with our families now, instead of being roped off, because there's no point anymore of that.

"What an exciting day!" Talley says from back up on the Justice Building stage. It's obvious that for the past hour she hasn't been counting up votes like she should have; instead she was probably sitting in the mayor's house, drinking up like a madwoman.

"Anyhow," she slurs. "It's time to announce our voted-on tributes. Let's just get this over with, people."

Talley quickly opens up the envelope and squints down at the names. "Ayala Talons and Rashid Thresher."

_Whew, _I sigh in relief. _Thank goodness it's not m- HEY! WAIT A MINUTE! That's my name! Who the hell voted for me?_

I can see my family out of the corner of my eye, staring at Talley in shock. The crowd uneasily looks around for me and Rashid, and when they find us, they appear sympathetically attached.

Well, that's it. I'm going to die. Might as well start by dying with dignity. I begin my walk up to the stage.

When I finally reach the make-shift stage, I see that this Rashid boy is already there, shaking first the mayor's hand and then Talley's. I am disgusted to see that Talley is actually crying; fake tears, no doubt.

Looking out at the valleys of District 12 I know I'll never see again, I think of the voting process. Was it really fair? Obviously someone out in this audience besides my brother voted for me. As I realize this, I also realize I loathe them all. I glare at each person I can locate in the crowd in turn. I can feel them stare back at me in sorrow. Oh, yeah. They better feel sorry.

Finally, I manage to quickly glance over at my family. My father is a strong man, but I can already see the small tears starting to form in his head. My mother has already broken down and is currently weeping silently to herself. Then I notice Mahalo. No, his face isn't filled with the pain and hopelessness I'm expecting. His face is unreadable and mute. I look away from them.

The mayor has began to read the long and boring Treaty of Treason, but I'm not really listening. Mahalo. That idiot. What if it was only one little vote that put me over the top? I am positive now; I am going to kill him.

And what about Cory? Oh, no. I'll miss Cory so much. I hope my brother is happy that I will be gone. Maybe he can start hanging out with Cory instead. Keep him company.

I take this opportunity to look over at the boy that our district voted for. Rashid Thresher. He's from the Seam; I can tell the minute I see him. His gray eyes, dark, straight hair, and haunting demeanor simply proves it. He catches me looking over at him and gives a slight smile, to acknowledge the fact that he knows I'm there. I finding myself blushing and turn away quickly.

Mayor Overhand finishes reading the Treaty of Treason and motions for me and Rashid to shake hands. We do so, but I help but notice that he's still giving me that little smile, and it's starting to make me wonder about him.

Is he a good partner for the Games? Or maybe it's all an act. I wouldn't blame him, of course. The Games have that effect on people.

* * *

Before I know it, the Peacekeepers have grabbed our hands and are escorting us into the Justice Building. I don't know why they have to be so rough about it, it's not like we're going to try and escape. If we did, they'd just kill us, and we're going to be dead in a week or two anyway, so what's the point?

Rashid is taken by one Peacekeeper to a room and I'm taken into another. It's a beautiful room, covered in velvet couches and paintings on the walls. I guess they want the tributes' goodbyes to be happy.

I don't want to cry, because I don't want to seem weak at this point. There will be cameras at the train station and the entire country will see my tears and think that I'm pitiable. I refuse to do that, because of the whole dying-with-dignity thing.

Before I know it, my entire family is in the room with me. My strict mother, my gentle father, even my terrible brother Mahalo. My mother's face is still streaming with small tears as she walks over to me and wraps me in a hug, just like she tried to do at the reaping. Only this time, I don't refuse it. My father simply runs his hands through my hair and tells me that he loves me and he believes in me.

Mahalo, on the other hand, looks sulky. His expression seems to say, _Alright, we said goodbye to her, now please can we leave?_

"Ayala," my mother sobs into my shoulder.

"Calm down, Mother," I say in a soothing voice. "It's going to be alright. You'll get through this."

"Aya, I hope you understand how much we love you, sweetie," my father tells me. "No matter what, okay? You'll always be our little girl, you know?"

"Yes," I reply back. "I know."

"Don't forget about us," my mother keeps saying. "Don't give up. You'll make it. I love you, sweetie."

My father sniffles a bit and turns to Mahalo. "Mahalo, don't you have anything to say to your little sister?"

"No," he mutters at the ground.

My mother and father both look stunned. Obviously, they think they've been such good parents and raised a boy enough to say goodbye to his younger sister.

"Okay, then," my father says, wiping something from his eye. "Good bye, sweetie. We love you."

"Love you too," I say. I am a bit stunned that my brother doesn't have anything to say to me, but who can blame him? He's the one who voted for me.

I hear the door shut behind my parents and take a seat on one of the couches and try to sort of my feelings, but before I can do anything, I feel Mahalo's hand on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I really am."

"What?"

"I'm sorry I voted for you. I never expected you to be chosen. I swear, you'll make it back. You're the bravest girl I know."

I glance over at him, to find him looking sorrowful and guilty. "You really think so?"

"I promise. Aya, you'll be a star. I love you." Mahalo reaches over and squeezes my hand reassuringly. "Good luck."

And with that final phrase of hope, he is gone. Neither my parents or my brother like long goodbyes, and I realize that I don't either. Long goodbyes are too painful to deal with, and I already have all the pain I want.

My next visitor is my friend from school, Tayana. We're not really very close, but I'm glad that she came to say goodbye because it's one person I can trust without making a scene.

"Ay, I'm going to miss you so much!" Tayana cries. "What will I do without you?"

"Do me a favor, and ask out Cory for me," I say.

Tayana scrunches her eyebrows together. "Cory Grimessa? Why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I just want him to be happy, and why wouldn't he be happy with a pretty girl like you? Just don't tell him that I told you to, okay?"

Tayana grins. She's always been the shallow, compliment-loving type of girl. "No problem. Thanks, Aya. Good luck."

"Bye," I smile back.

After Tayana leaves, Cory is finally here. I can't help but shed a little tear when he finally arrives. Besides my family, Cory is the person I will definitely miss the most.

"Listen, Aya, I don't want you to die," he tells me, and I can hear real pain leaking out of his voice.

I swallow reluctantly. "Cory, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. Do me a favor and make yourself happy."

"How on earth could I be happy if you're gone?" he gets out, sinking onto the velvet couch.

I don't know what to say. Anger replaces my grief. I'm about to be sent to the Capitol to die, and here Cory is complaining about how much he'll miss me. It was alright to hear it from my family, but you'd think that a strong boy like him could survive.

"Aw, shut up," I tell him, irritated.

He looks up, a bit stunned. "What?"

"I'm about to die and here you are screaming about how much you'll miss me! Can't you be normal and wish me luck like my family did?"

"Okay, fine," he snarls. "Good luck, jerk."

"Get out of here," I seethe back. "I never want to see you again. This is all your fault, you hear me?"

"Good, because you'll never have to," he retorts back. "But how is this my fault? I didn't even vote for you!"

"I said get out!" I scream.

"Gladly!" he screams back.

After I hear the door slam, my fellow tribute Rashid walks in and looks at me. "Talley is calling us to the station. We need to go."

"All right," I nod, standing up to leave.

As Rashid and I walk to the station with two Peacekeepers at our sides, he surprises me with a question. "Hey, are you okay? It sounded a bit tense in there. Don't worry, I totally get it. My brothers and I argue all the time, too."

I look over at Rashid and shake my head. "That wasn't my brother. That was my best friend, Cory. I -"

I'm unable to finish my sentence. I'm already crying.

Rashid stops suddenly and reaches for my hand. "Shhhh, it's okay. We're almost at the station. Things will be alright. I promise."

How many times have people promised me that so far today? I would never admit this to anyone, but with Rashid's protective hold on my me and his body protecting me from the camera flashes, I'm starting to believe it.

* * *

The minute the train pulls away from the station, Talley greets us happily. Her plastic smile is still as fresh as ever.

"Hey guys! So, your rooms are down _that_ hallway and me and some Capitol people are down _that_ hall. Don't bother coming to dinner, there's no one here besides you two and me, anyway. So we'll just bring dinner to your rooms later. Bye!"

Talley bounces away happily to her own room, acting as if there is nothing wrong.

Rashid looks over at me and motions for me to follow him into his room. I immediately obey.

"Wow, this place is spiffy, huh?" he laughs as he messes with some buttons on the wall.

"Definitely," I giggle as a plate of blueberries pops out of the wall. "I haven't had blueberries in, like, forever."

Rashid widens his eyes. "My father used to tell me stories about blueberries, back when he was alive. He said that they were one of the best foods in all of Panem."

I glance down at the floor awkwardly. "I'm sorry."

"Me, too," Rashid mumbles at the wall.

We stand there for a few minutes before continuing to play with all the buttons on the walls. I am especially pleased by the frothy beverage that a Capitol attendant brings us both a few minutes later: something called hot chocolate.

After we are both served a heavy dinner in Rashid's room, Rashid entertains me by telling me stories about the Seam.

"It's a pretty dirty place," he says regretfully. "Most of us barely manage to scrape by each day."

"Still," I say, after he tells me about the black-market place they have there, the Hob. "It sounds so exciting. The most exciting thing I do all day is go to school."

Rashid laughs, a nice sound that fills the room. It's contagious, making my face curve into a smile as well.

"So what's your life like?" he asks.

"Nothing like yours," I say. "I have an older brother named Mahalo and a best friend named Tayana. It's basically what you'd expect any normal teenage girl to have as a life."

I grimace slightly as I say this. Just one day ago, I would've called Cory my best friend, but when he said goodbye to me after the reaping, something changed between us. I want to forget about him.

Rashid nods, but then shakes his head slightly. "There's something different about you, though, Ayala. I can feel it."

"What do you mean?"

He looks back and forth nervously, then leans forward to me. "I think you're going to win."

I widen my eyes. "What? Are you crazy? No tribute from District 12 has ever won so far. What makes you think that I will?"

Rashid shrugs. "I don't know. It's just this thing I feel inside. My dad used to say that I had a strong intuition about these kinds of things. Don't tell anyone this, but I actually guessed who would win the Games last year, and I was right."

"No way!" I whisper loudly. "So you knew that boy from District 4 would win?"

He smiles, then nods confidently. "The minute I saw his interview I knew he would smash everyone else's head through the ground. So, trust me. I know you. You will do great things in the arena."

"But we haven't even met any of the other tributes yet and - "

Rashid silences me by putting his finger over my lips. "Shhhh. Trust me. You will do it. I promise you."

I release a choked sound in my throat and excuse myself back to my room. Once I get there, I lie down on my bed and think of the possibility of winning, like Rashid Thresher suggested.

It is too great to imagine.


	4. My Prep Team and Stylist

**A/N: School's out, so I'm going to have more time to write and type up my fanfics (this one and Hovercraft). If you haven't already, I would really appreciate a review on either this story or Hovercraft. ;)**

Three: My Prep Team and Stylist

I am woken in the morning from a deep sleep by the gentle moving rhythm of the Capitol train, flying at high speeds towards the Capitol. Speaking of which, shouldn't we be there by now? Maybe the train had to stop for fuel sometime during the night, so we got a little delayed.

For some reason, I think back on a dream I had last night. The exact details are fuzzy, but I know Cory was in it, as well as Rashid and Talley. I remember that Cory was telling me not to trust someone, but I can't remember who. Probably one of the other tributes or something.

Talley interrupts my thought by bursting into my room. "Come on, come on, get up! Big day today! We have the Opening Ceremonies tonight, and you need to meet your prep team as well as your stylist!"

I roll my eyes sleepily and make myself get ready for the day. On the floor I find my tan dress that I wore to the reaping. I changed out of it when I got on the train, but the thought that it is still here, crumpled and lying sadly on the floor, makes me burn with shame. I regret that I argued with my mother over it, and I regret that I'll never see her again.

When I walk out down the hallway the dining table near Talley's room, I find Rashid is already sitting there, reading a borrowed novel. Sitting next to him is Talley, drinking a cup of coffee, and an unfamiliar man I've never seen before.

"Ayala," Rashid greets me, patting the chair next to him. "Come on. Sit."

I sit next to him and am shocked when a huge platter of food is placed in the middle of the table. It's filled with fried eggs, mashed potatoes, foreign meats, various fruits, and a lot more. Can this really be for us, the lowly tributes and our escort?

Apparently so, because the unfamiliar man grabs a serving plate and starts to fill it with food. Talley and Rashid follow suit, and my hands find themselves doing the same.

During the meal, in between bites of fruit and swallows of juice, I find myself staring at this strange man and wondering who he is. With his light brown, curly hair and hazel highlights, he doesn't look like a normal Capitol citizen would. Usually, their wild style tells them apart.

Talley must've noticed my curious expression, because about halfway through the meal she puts down her fork and clears her throat. "Ayala, Rashid. This is Marko, from the Capitol. He has the pleasure of being your mentor this year."

"Mentor?" Rashid echoes.

"Well, technically, yes," Talley says. "Since your district has not had a victor to date, Marko was assigned to train you two. That's okay with you right?"

I nearly choke on my beverage. We're going to have a Capitol person train us to fight to the death in an event that the Capitol encourages? There are so many things wrong with that statement that it's all I can do not to laugh.

Rashid obviously agree with me. "Talley, did you just say that we're having someone from the Capitol train us? I'm not going to be surprised if he tells us to kill ourselves."

Talley glares at us both. "Stop talking about him as if he's not here. He can hear you, you know. At least give him a chance."

"It's all right, sweetheart," Marko says. "We can't understand what these two are going through. Let's cut them some slack."

Rashid and I glance at each other, curiously confused. _Sweetheart?_

Marko smiles. "Talley and I are engaged. I just proposed to her last night after the reaping. We're going to get married in a few months."

I slam my glass down on the linen tablecloth. Great. Not only am I being mentored by a crazed Capitol man, he's in love with my even-more-crazed escort and they're getting married. Not before me and Rashid both die in the arena, of course. Really, can my life get any worse?

"Excuse me," I mutter, before dashing back to my room.

"Ayala!" I hear Marko call behind me. "Wait! You didn't finish your food!"

_Like I want it anymore. Why would I want to eat Capitol food next to a Capitol escort, who is sitting next to a Capitol mentor?_

About an hour later, I feel the train beginning to slow down. We must to approaching the Capitol. Finally.

Running over to my window, I brace myself for my first glance at this new place. The first thing I see is a flash. A bright, powerful flash that all but sends me flying backwards. It's a camera. Of course, there would be photographers here; I'd nearly forgotten.

Talley enters my room without knocking. "Get off the train and follow Marko. I don't want to talk to you now; I'm in a bad mood."

Well, okay then. This is much different from the preppy woman I saw at the reaping yesterday, isn't it? Maybe her engagement got canceled. I hope so.

Ignoring the camera flashes by making myself look bored, I follow behind Rashid and Marko and find myself in an elevator in a building called the Remake Center. Are they serious? They have a whole building to 'remake' tributes?

I can't wait.

* * *

I've only been with my prep team for half an hour, but I already despise what they are doing to me. I've been greased down with some foul-smelling oil, washed severely with an equally foul-smelling soap, and now it look like they're going to remove all of the hair from my legs.

My initial reaction, when I first walked into the room, at all of this was pure disgust, but I have just enough sense to realize that these people are just doing their job and that I should leave them alone. They probably are underpaid and are really trying to help me in a way. So for the next few hours, all I do is patiently wait for them to finish whatever they are doing to my body.

Fortunately, soon they take a few steps back and admire their work on me.

"Dahling, you look _so_ much better now than you did before!" squeals an aquamarine-haired woman named Cecila. Her entire attitude so far has been excited and tremendously energetic.

Anyway, am I supposed to take that as a compliment or what? "Um, thanks for helping me."

"Oh, sweetie, you're so welcome!" Sakami, my second prep team member, replies with even more enthusiasm than Cecila. "You're going to be a stahr!"

"Definitely!" exclaims Mona, an outrageous man who is my final prep team member. "I can't wait to see your costume for the ceremonies! You know, Philli always designs the greatest outfits. Let's go call him!"

"Wait, who's Philli?" I ask, but my insane prep team has already fled the room, either conquered with emotional excitement over seeing my costume or finally relived that they can leave me.

I stand there in the middle of the room, in front of a full length mirror, wondering what on earth is going to happen next. My eyes find their way to my hair in the reflection in front of me. My mother wanted to have it styled for the reaping, but I begged her not to. In the end we compromised by just curling it a little bit and putting it up in a ponytail. My natural shade of it is an odd light brown color, on the edge of being blonde. I hate it; it doesn't match anyone's in District 12.

The door suddenly opens and in walks someone who I assume is my stylist, Philli.

"Hey. It's Ayala, right? Can I call you Ay?" Philli asks.

My mouth twitches upward in a slight smile. No one has called me Ay since the train pulled out of the station in my district. I'm already liking this man. "Yeah, no problem."

"I'm Philli, your stylist. It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, extending his hand for me to shake. I do so, finding it to be friendly and inviting.

Philli takes a seat on a leather couch and motions me to do the same. I pull on my robe and join him, glad that he has no interest in seeing my naked body like my prep team did.

"So, Ay, before we start talking about your costume and everything, I need to know: How have you liked it here so far?"

I relax into a genuine grin. "It's okay. Of course, I'll always love District 12, but it's not too bad here."

"Is is like what you expected?"

"Not quite."

"What do you think of your fellow tribute, Rashid?"

"He's nice. What's with all the questions?"

Philli laughs. "Nothing. I just want to get to know you a little bit." _Before you die, _are the words he doesn't have to add.

"Now, Ay," Philli presses. "My partner Serabie, who is the stylist for your partner Rashid, and I have been thinking up some costumes for you two. The problem is, we don't think that any of them are completely right. Our job is to make you two look impressive, correct?"

"Correct," I agree.

"So here's what we've decided," Philli continues, grinning happily. "We're going to let you wear whatever you want to wear for the Ceremonies, as long as we approve it first and it relates to your district."

"Really?" I am thoroughly shocked. "So we can choose anything we like, as long as it fits the rules?"

"Yes. Serabie and I have already checked with the Gamemakers and they say that it's perfectly fine. So you just describe want you want to wear and maybe draw a few sketches, and I'll start making it," Philli confirms.

Since District 12 represents coal, I have to think of something coal-related to wear. This may be a little tough.

"Can you at least give me some pointers?" I ask. "I'm not exactly a star at designing clothing."

"Well, the idea is to stand out in the crowd, so originality is the key," Philli tells me. "Give us something we never would've expected from you."

Philli gives me a pad of paper and a pencil and leaves me to work.

I draw a few long dresses with coal sprinkles covering them, as well as some simple shirts and pants with graffiti all over them , because I've heard rumors about the mines are filled with graffiti.

The problem, I slowly begin to realize, is that I don't know much about coal. Only men over eighteen work in the mines, and the rest of us stay home and do chores. I wonder how Rashid's costume is coming along. Surely he knows more about coal than me, coming from a family from the Seam with older siblings.

_That's not good enough for the Hunger Games, though,_ I think, erasing my delicate pencil marks on the paper.

* * *

After another good hour of sketching, adjusting, muttering, and thinking, I finally agree on the best of my choices. A simple, white, strapless dress that comes to my knees, covered with blackened sparkly pieces of imitation coal. A matching, thick headband/bracelet set that compliments my honey-colored hair, and slip-on, heeled, strappy sandals. It's the most girlish outfit I've ever worn, and the complete opposite of original.

"That's beautiful, Ay," Philli says, when he comes back in the room with lunch.

"Sadly, it's not very original, is it?" I say, staring at my sketches.

"Not at all. I think you'd make a wonderful stylist or designer for tributes," Philli says with a sincere smile.

I smile back up at him. "Thanks."

Philli picks up my sketches and tells me that the Opening Ceremonies start at sunset, which gives him quite a bit of time for him and Serabie to work on our costumes.

"What should I do now?" I ask.

"Guess you have some free time," he says. "Why don't you go find Talley and Marko? Maybe they have something for you to do."

"Okay. Bye, Philli."

"Bye, Ayala," he says, walking away with my precious designs and a handful of cloth.

As I walk down the hallway, I see a bunch of guards near the entrance, trying to fight off cameramen and other Capitol people that are trying to enter the remake center. I don't want to get caught in the commotion, so I quickly run for the elevators and locate the District 12 floor.

Once I reach the twelfth floor, I see Talley and Marko down the hall in the dining room, sharing a cup of coffee. Talley is giggling over something Marko said, and Marko has his hand on her arm. Suddenly, I feel very small and lonely. I turn away quickly, but Talley has already noticed me.

"Ayala, sweetie, is that you? Oh, dear, don't mind us, dahling, come and sit here!" Talley exclaims. "So how did you like your prep team and stylist?"

"They were okay," I say a bit shyly. "I really liked my stylist, Philli. He seems so nice."

"Ah, Philli. Yes, he's one of the new stylists; he's only been here three years or so," Marko nods. "How about your prep team?"

I make a face. "They were alright. I feel like they invaded my personal space, though. I don't think I've ever been given such a grand remake treatment before."

Talley and Marko both laugh and again, I notice that they both look so happy together.

I clear my throat. "By the way, I'm sorry about my rude behavior to you two this morning. I guess I was just stressed about arriving in the Capitol and everything. But I feel much better now. And I never got to say congratulations to you guys. So, congrats."

Marko looks surprised, then grins. "Thank you, Ayala. And it's alright, we understand that you and Rashid are going through a lot lately."

"Thank you," I say quietly.

Talley smiles. "Did you eat lunch yet?"

"Yes, I ate with Philli. I still can't get over how delicious the food is here."

Marko laughs again. "I've forgotten how innocent and charming children are." He reaches over to stroke my hair. "You are going to be beautiful in the Opening Ceremonies, you know that?"

Twelve hours ago, if Marko had said this, I would've screamed and cried for my old life back, but now I don't mind at all. I know that it's the truth. "I know. Sakami said that I'm going to be a star."

Talley looks so pitiful for me that I know that if I stay here any longer, she'll burst into real tears. "Good luck, sweetie."


	5. Opening Ceremonies

Four: Opening Ceremonies

As soon as Marko leaves the dining room, though, Talley's pitiful smile turns into a slight frown.

"What's wrong?" I ask, a bit scared.

"You're too . . . what's the word. Vulnerable," she says.

"Excuse me?"

Talley sighs. "Ayala, in order to win these Games, or even get anywhere in them, you must be mentally and physically strong. I'm not saying that you're weak; you're not. But you're not exactly strong either, and the little conversation we just had with Marko proves that. Begging for pity, no, we can't have any of that. You have to find a fine balance between weakness and strength."

I am now totally left in the dust. "Okay . . . thanks for the pep talk."

Talley slams her glass down on the table, just like I did earlier today. "Ayala, that was not a pep talk. It was way more than that! Sweetie, don't you understand? I am _trying_ to help you survive! I really am. It's just . . . I -"

By now, she breaks down and starts sobbing.

"Talley!" I cry, standing up and walking over to her chair. I let her cry for a minute or two and bring her towels to wipe her face on. I let her express her feelings by way of tears and sniffles.

"I'm a shameful person," she whispers.

"No you're not," I say firmly.

"Yes, I am. Ever since I started this job, six years ago, when I was eighteen, I've been assigned escort as well as mentor for District 12. That's the way it's always been for districts without a victor. This is the first year that someone else has been placed in charge of you two as well, as a mentor. Honestly, I'm a wreck because of it. I'm not good at giving another person power. And look where it's gotten me, sweetie. Twelve kids so far from your district dead because of me; no victors at all. I don't deserve all this power," she tells me.

"Talley, please," I say. "Don't worry too much about us. I know that it's your job to do that, but I can see that it's stressing you out. It's all right."

Talley sniffles once more and nods. "I'll try."

"One more thing," I whisper. "I want to you quit after these Games. Quit, and marry Marko and go on living your life happily with some other job. I want you to be happy."

"I've given you no reason to wish for my happiness," she counters. "I called your name at the reaping. I'm helping you to prepare for slaughter. I'm marrying a Capitol mentor. I'm _from_ the Capitol, sweetie. You hate us."

I give a wane smile. "I can't do that. I can't hate anyone just because of the way things are. At least, I try not to."

Talley smiles, stands up, and pushes in her chair. "Thank you, Ayala. Now, the Ceremonies are going to start in an hour. You need to go down to the basement of this remake building and get in your costume. I can't wait to see it."

* * *

"There you are, Ay!" Philli nearly squeals when I reach the lowest level of the Remake Center in the fancy elevator. "I'm done with your costume. Do you want to see it?"

"Do I ever," I say with a grin.

"Wait right here," he tells me, and runs into a small closet off to the side of the room. He reappears a few seconds later with one of those dress covers. "Well, here it is!"

"It's covered," I say with an eye roll.

"Of course," he says, returning with a roll of his own eyes. "Your fabulous prep team needs to do you hair and makeup first."

"Oh yeah," I remember. "This should be fun, considering I chose almost everything about my costume myself."

About forty-five minutes later, my prep team finally allows me to see myself in the mirror. My hair looks almost exactly the way I wanted it to. It's been brushed back and held in place with a white and black headband. The only adjustment that has been completed is that Mona has curled my wavy hair and dyed the ends a little lighter than its normal shade, so the roots are natural light brown and the ends are blond. I like it. It's simple, yet it makes a statement.

Sakami and Cecila are in control of my makeup, which is probably the most extravagant part of my costume. Simple black eyeliner, light mascara, and a bit of blush to add color. This is the only problem I have with my costume, since I hate all makeup, but I remember that my team is trying to help me, so I don't say a word.

Finally, Philli says I can see my dress. "Ready?"

"I have been for almost an hour," I reply.

Philli ignores this comment. "Close your eyes."

"Really?" I snort, but obey him. "I already know what it looks like, why should I have to close my eyes for it?"

My prep team helps me into the dress, and into the pair of sandals I designed. The minute I step up into the shoes I realize there might be a problem. I have never walked in heels before. When I take one step forward, I nearly fall on my face and twist my ankle.

"I had a feeling that she wouldn't be able to handle heels this high," I hear Cecila whisper to Sakami.

"That's why I made an extra pair, with only two inch heels," Philli tells them. "Here, put them on her."

With my eyes still closed, I step into the other pair. "This is much better. Thank you, Philli."

"No problem, Ay," he says. "Now open your eyes."

I open my eyes and see that my reflection in front of me looks beautiful. The dress hugs my body perfectly, but in a way that is still modest. The bracelet idea was scrapped because Philli was worried that it might fall off in the chariot, but to make up for it, he added a necklace.

I was just expecting a simple white dress with gray coal smudges, but Philli has added sparkles to make the coal stand out against the dress, as well as splatters of red paint in various places.

"What's with the blood splatters?" I ask nervously.

Philli grins. "It's not real blood, silly. It's just paint. The Hunger Games is about revenge and winning. How can you do that without a little blood?"

"He's right, Aya," Mona confirms. "It's not all about fancy food and beautiful dresses. Sometimes you need to be bold to be remembered."

Cecila and Sakami both nod in agreement.

I gulp, but manage to nod back at them. "All right. Let's do this."

* * *

Rashid arrives several minutes later, wearing nearly the same thing as me; except instead of a dress, it's a suit, and instead of a headband, it's a tie.

"What, were you too nervous about the Games to come up with your own costume?" I ask mockingly.

Rashid squints at me inquisitively. "What?"

Philli clears his throat. "Sorry, Rashid. I didn't have you design an outfit like Ayala here did. I figured you weren't exactly the bomb at designing clothing."

"Wait a minute," Rashid says in awe. "So you designed this entire outfit?"

I blush. "Well, most of it. Right, Philli?"

Philli nods. "I just touched up on a few parts. But other than that, yeah, she did the whole thing herself. Her name's even on the program. Isn't that wonderful?"

Rashid gapes at me in shock. "Whoa. You're _amazing_."

"Stop it," I say, turning away. "You're embarrassing me."

Serabie clears her throat. "Guys, I hate to ruin your little moment here, but you need to get in the chariot. Now."

"Sorry!" we yelp, and run into the velvet seats.

The opening music starts blaring, and we see the tributes from District 1 start their ride into the city. District 2 gets into position to follow, and soon enough there goes District 11.

"Remember, heads up and smile. They're going to adore you!" Philli tells us.

His cheerful voice is the last thing I hear before entering the city.

The crowd gives a tiny bit of applause for our entrance, as they normally do for Panem's least appreciated district, but I'm still very grateful. All of the bright lights and initial screaming from the costumes of the first few districts really freaked me out.

Rashid gets the courage to actually start waving and, to my surprise, some people out in the streets as a matter of fact wave back. This encourages me to wave as well, and even blow a few kisses to the audience.

"District Twelve!" the announcer calls over the speakers, trying to make up for the silence. "Now, this is interesting. This year, District Twelve's costume was not, in fact, designed by the stylists, but fashioned by our girl tribute this year, Ayala Talons. Miss Talons says of the costume, 'It's simple but flattering, and the splashes of 'blood' remind us of the Games.' Let's give a hand to Ayala and Rashid!"

The audience reacts shockingly. I can hear bits of conversation start to waft around the City Circle. "She designed that herself?" "No way!" "It's so gorgeous!" "What's her name again? Oh yeah, Ayala! Go, Ayala!" "Is that supposed to be sparkling coal or something?" "Wow, it's like the first pleasant appearance by that grimy district ever!"

Rashid's face breaks into a grin, and so does mine. "Wow," I whisper. "I had no idea I was that good!"

"No, you're brilliant," Rashid smiles coyly. "Can you imagine how much people are focused on our costumes now that they know you designed it?"

"Yeah," I say with a grin. "We have to thank Philli after this. This should be all for him. All the applause and stuff, because it was his idea."

Rashid and I continue waving and smiling to the crowd until the twelve chariots pull up to President Sleet's mansion. All the chariots stop with a halt and President Sleet begins his speech.

"Welcome, citizens of Panem, to the Twenty-fifth Annual Hunger Games, or the First Quarter Quell," Sleet begins. This is a special year, and we hope that you are all ready for the surprises we have in store for this year's Games. The Gamemakers have been hard at work, so let's give them a round of applause! And, of course, we must not forget about our tributes. So give them a hand, everyone!"

The crowd goes wild, cheering for just about everything that Sleet said in the short speech. The sun starts to set in the west, and the chariots circle around the City Circle once more before riding into the Training Center, where we will be held until the Games begin.

Philli and Serabie greet us when we finally come to a stop inside the building. They help us out of the chariot and feed the horses for a job well done.

"You two did fabulous!" Serabie says. "The crowd actually loved it."

"I knew it was a good idea to have Ayala design her costume," Philli says with a grin.

I turn to him. "Thank you, Philli. This all belongs to you. We wouldn't be shining like this if it weren't for you."

"Yes, thank you," Rashid echoes.

Philli rolls his eyes modestly. "All in a day's work. Come on, you two. You need to meet Marko and Talley up on the twelfth floor for dinner."

* * *

The Training Center has a floor for each district, and naturally ours is last. But in this case, being last is good because we have the highest floor, which means we can ride the elevator longer than all of the other tributes. The elevator here is phenomenal; I feel like I'm flying when I ride it. Rashid, on the other hand, is terrified of heights, so maybe this isn't going to work out for him.

I go into my assigned room, which is even nicer than the room I had on the train, if you can believe that. I take a shower, pressing nearly all the buttons on the wall to see what they each do. I almost burn myself with the hot water, but other than that, I am wholly satisfied when I step out with glossy hair and shining skin.

I open the closet and put on a pair of skinny dark indigo jeans, a simple yellow shirt, and leather flat sandals. I'm relieved to finally have an outfit that doesn't require balancing on the balls of my feet.

Talley and Marko are waiting down in the dining room when I arrive. Our floor has six rooms: the dining room, the sitting room, Talley's room, Marko's room, Rashid's room, and my room. Each room is about the size of an average Seam house, according to Rashid.

"Hey, Talley," Rashid greets me when I sit down at the table next to him.

"Hey," I say. "Aren't the rooms here amazing?"

Rashid's eyes widen. "I know! I almost fell asleep in the shower, because it was so comfortable."

Everyone at the table laughs, including me.

As the food is being served, Talley leans over the table and looks excited. "So, guess what? While you guys were getting ready for the ceremonies, Marko and I were going around the Capitol looking for sponsors for you two. Oh, you'll never believe this!"

"What?" Rashid and I both ask.

"I've already found 2 sponsors for Ayala and 1 for Rashid!" Talley cries. "One woman thought your dress design was so incredible, Ayala, that I didn't even have the ask for a sponsor. The minute I walked up to her, she begged to sponsor you both."

Everyone at the table, especially Philli, lets out shouts of satisfaction.

"Wow, Talley," I say. "And training or anything hasn't even started yet."

"Exactly," Marko says with a grin. "Once you guys have your private sessions, and if you get a good score, more sponsors may come rolling in."

"None of the other escorts even have begun to consider sponsors yet," Talley continues with a gush. "You are guaranteed full attention during training."

I feel happy enough to burst. Although I still don't believe Rashid about how he thought I would win, I have to admit that Talley and Marko may not be so bad after all. With their help, we may actually make it pretty far.

"Thank you so much, everyone," I say to each person at the table. "You guys have really helped me a lot. I'm glad the last few days of my life can be enjoyed at least."

The second I say this, though, I know that I've said the wrong thing. Talley looks at me fiercely, and I remember our little 'pep talk' from earlier today.

"I'm sorry," I say, feeling ashamed. "I didn't mean -"

"Why don't you two go down to your rooms and get some rest," Marko interrupts quietly. "The grownups need to talk for a bit."

"Okay," I say dejectedly, walking with Rashid back to our rooms.

"What was _that_ all about?" Rashid asks when we've reached the door to my room.

"Nothing," I snap. "Good night."

"Night," he says before walking down the hall to his own room.

* * *

**A/N: Since you've bothered to scroll/read all the way down here, I have three things to say. :)**

**One, I'll give anyone a shout-out if they can guess where I got Ayala's name from. (Hint: it's from a book series)**

**Two, Ayala's hair is honey colored because almost everyone in District 12 has straight black hair (Seam) or blond (merchant). Isn't that weird?**

**Three, unlike Effie Trinket in THG, Talley is going to have a pretty big role in this story as escort. Marko's role, even though he is their 'mentor', won't be as big.**


	6. Training Sessions

Five: Training Sessions

The next day brings an anxious Talley who arrives in my room, knocking me out of my thoughts again.

"Come on, get up! Big day again today! It's your first day of training! Rashid and Marko are already awake! Get up!" The door slams and Talley is gone.

I roll out of my fluffy bed with another night's dreams fresh in my head. This time, though, I remember every detail.

* * *

I was back home, sitting in my room, doing my homework. Language arts homework. A full paragraph over why the Capitol is supreme.

Suddenly, Cory burst into my room, followed by a few other kids from school. They were each carrying weapons and running like something rabid was chasing them.

"What's going on?" I shouted at Tayana, who looked like she was about to faint.

"They're after us!" she said in a panicked tone. "They're going to get you, Ay!"

"Who's going to get me?" I asked, still confused.

"THEY ARE!" she screamed, before taking cover under my bed.

A terrifying boom shook the world and everyone screamed along with her, including me. I just managed to catch a glimpse of a rusty spear before joining my friends in hiding.

* * *

That happened to be right about when Talley woke me up, so I can't remember any more of the dream. But I know by the way Tayana's face looked that something terrible was after me, and I should watch out.

After taking a hot shower and brushing my hair, I walk down the hall towards the dining room. As usual, everyone is already seated around the table. Why am I always last? I don't like this feeling, this feeling that while I wasn't there, they were sharing some inside joke that I don't know about. I hate it.

"Hello, Ayala," Marko says. "Come sit. Eat."

The food's already been served. Delicious sausages, fruity drinks with fancy umbrellas in them, eggs with pieces of meat in them. Talley is biting daintily into a piece of sausage while reading a magazine. Rashid, well, Rashid looks like he's about to explode from just the sight of all the food.

After Marko has finished several plates worth of eggs, he pushes back his plate and stares and me and Rashid with his haunting blue eyes. "So, as you both know, your first day of three training sessions is today. First off, if you like, I'll coach you separately. Decide now."

Rashid and I glance at each other, as if, mutually deciding what we should do. He shrugs, and I give him a what-can-we-do look.

"You can coach us together," he says, and I nod.

"Okay, so give me some idea of what you both can do."

"I can't do anything," I tell him. "My dad owns a restaurant and I'm pretty good at waiting tables, but other than that, I'm useless."

Marko bites his lip. "Okay, Rashid, what about you?"

"I'm not too terrible at archery. I came in third in our school competition last year. Oh, and I like weight-lifting, but I'm not too good at that," he says.

Marko's face brightens. "Excellent. Those are both very good skills in the arena. Now, Ayala, I'm sure that there's something you can do. Tell me what you like. Your hobbies, I guess."

I think. "I love exploring. I can get lost in a store if you leave me there for half an hour. I like plants and I love animals. But how will any of that help me in the arena?"

Talley grins. "May I interrupt for a second? Aya, you just gave two good skills that many people lack. You can hide. Tributes often think that their opponents are out hunting for them, but in reality they often are just hiding away, minding their own business. Exploring can get you far in the arena, if you know where the good spots are."

"Or course," Marko says, looking relieved. "Just what I was about to say. And you can find food if you know a thing or two about plants and animals, right?"

I look over and Talley, surprised, and she shoots me a wink.

Maybe I have underestimated Talley Marshesta after all. Maybe she doesn't expect me to survive, but she'll at least help me try.

"Well, um, good luck guys. When you're down in the gymnasium, with the other tributes, try learning something new. Learn how to make a shelter, throw knives, whatever." Marko looks like he wants to get out of here.

"Knives?" I ask incredulously. "I know about knives! My dad is a chef!"

"Well, then, surely you know how to use a knife, right?" Rashid asks.

"Yeah, but not as a weapon," I mutter.

Talley sighs. "Meet me down at the elevator at ten, alright?"

"All right," Rashid and I echo.

We go back to our rooms and I change into my training outfit, which Philli has put out in the front of the closet for me. Long black pants, a white shirt with red splatters, and leather shoes with stripes on them to look like straps on sandals. I smile when I see it. My costume. Of course; Philli probably intends to make this whole 'designer' thing last as long as possible. I can't blame him. It's a brilliant idea, after all.

When I go out to the elevator at five minutes to ten, I find that Rashid is already there, in his training outfit. I'm relieved to see that his is different, something designed by Serabie. I would be totally embarrassed if we showed up in training with matching outfits.

"Hey," he says, when he sees me approaching. "Nice outfit."

"Thanks," I say honestly.

Luckily, Talley chooses that second to appear in the hallway, walk up to us, and push the call button for the elevator. "Come on, the training is in the lowest level of the building, in the gymnasium. Let's go."

When the elevator doors open less than a minute after we climbed onto the elevator, I am surprised to see a huge gymnasium with various weapons and survival obstacle courses everywhere. As usual, for me at least, we are the last group to arrive, even though I made sure to arrive at the elevator early. All the other tributes are gathered in a circle in the center of the gym, surrounding a tall man who must be the head trainer.

The other tributes. I swallow a gulp. I haven't really paid attention to the other tributes, because this year we didn't have reapings to watch and I usually ignore people I didn't know anyway. But now that we all gathered in the gymnasium to train, I find myself noticing the tributes for the first time.

There's a tall, pudgy boy from District 2 that stands out, as well as a twelve year old from District 6. Most of the other tributes do not catch my eye, either because they look as normal as me or I'm so nervous about training.

A blond girl from District 9 awkwardly shifts over to make room for me in the circle, and I nod a small thank you to her. "You're late, 12," she whispers to me as I sit.

"I know," I hiss, rolling my eyes. "I always am."

The tall man clears his throat. "Hello, tributes. Welcome to your first day of training. I'm Galan, the head trainer. There are experts at each station to help you with that specific skill. You all are free to travel from station to station, as per your mentor's instructions. Some stations teach fighting techniques, others survival skills."

Then Galan begins to read down the list of stations. I listen closely, trying to settle on which ones to go to first. Marko told me to learn something new, so I decide to go the spear throwing session first, then maybe the archery table. Rashid, who is sitting several tributes down to my left, looks bored.

When Galan releases us to go train, most the tributes immediately stand up and head for the deadly weapons, trying to impress the trainers. Most of them, though, know almost nothing about weapons and end up getting hurt in one way or another.

When I stand up, I find the girl from 9 still standing right behind me. "What's up? Don't you have to go train?" I ask her a bit harshly.

The girl seems to shrink. She can't be more than fourteen. "Um, no, I don't really know anyone here. Mind if I tag along?"

I sigh. "Fine. I'm going to the knife throwing table first."

The girl obediently follows me across the gymnasium to the nearly full station. "Um, maybe, we should go somewhere less, you know, crowded?"

I look over at the girl. That's the first good idea she's had since I met her. "Okay, where do you want to go?"

The girl turns around and heads to the camouflage station, which is completely empty. Apparently, camouflage is not a very exciting skill to know in the arena.

"Why do you want to go here?" I ask her when we arrive.

The girl turns red. "Um, no reason. It's just quieter over here."

I know there's got to be a more complex reason to why she wants to go here, but I've only known her for five minutes and I decide to let it go.

The girl, who introduces herself as Ruma, seems to really enjoy this station, spinning berry juices and mud around her tan skin, constructing disguises from leaves and vines. The trainer at the station compliments her sweetly for her skill.

"Good job," I tell her after we're done with that station.

"Thank you," she says. "My boyfriend is the baker's son. I go over to the bakery a lot and help his dad out with the cakes and stuff. It's fun."

I stiffen a little at this comment. This little girl has a skill that I do not know about or care to learn about: boys. I'm genuinely curious.

"You have a boyfriend?" I ask, even though I obviously know the answer.

"Oh, yes," Ruma says dreamily. "We've been friends since we were little. His name's Jarred. He's so delightful. I miss him so much."

I feel a lump in my throat block my air passage way and I stop walking. This story suddenly sounds very familiar. Its sounds like . . . like what would've maybe happened with me and Cory.

"Are you all right, Ayala?" Ruma asks, concerned.

"I'm fine," I say, putting on a smile.

Breakfast and dinner are mildly boring, with Talley, Marko and Rashid, but lunch is entertaining because it is a chance for me and Ruma to talk some more.

At lunch, we sit together and chat about our lives. She tells me more about her life in District 9, her family, her friends, more about Jarred. In return I tell her about my life in District 12, my dad's restaurant, Mahalo, my school, Tayana. I can't bring up the nerve to tell her about Cory though, but that seems fine with her. She seems so pleased that she's made a friend.

On the morning of the third day of training, Rashid walks up to be before Talley arrives at the elevators and grabs my arm.

"What?" I ask when I turn to him.

"Who is your little friend?" he asks with a snarl.

I'm a little shocked, because I've never seen Rashid act this way before. "She's from 9. Her name's Ruma. She's fourteen."

Rashid glares at me. "Don't you know that it's dangerous to be making friends in the Games? Unless you two become allies or something, you have to want to kill her in the arena. Why do you want to be her friend?"

"She's nice," I fire back. "We get along so well. She's like the sister I never had. And you know what Rashid? Maybe I will ask her to be allies! Take that!"

Rashid is silent. The ride down to the gymnasium is stiff and uncomfortable, even with Talley there to chat us up.

True to my word, I decide to ask Ruma later if we can be allies in the Games.

"Of course, we have to check with our mentors first," I say. "But can you ask your mentor for me?"

Ruma looks as if she just won the Games herself. "I'd like that."

"Cool," I say with a smile.

That day, during lunch, they begin to call us out of the dining room for our private training sessions with the Gamemakers. They start with the boy, then the girl tribute from each district. This means that I will be dead last out of all the twenty-four. Great.

Once Ruma leaves the room, I feel lonely. I sit down with my food and pick at my pasta. Finally, Rashid and I are alone. I sense his presence as he sits all the way across the room, alone as well.

"Hey," he says, after clearing his throat.

That's it. I drop my fork. "What is wrong with you?"

Rashid looks taken aback. "What?"

"Why are you acting so bipolar? This morning you looked like you were going to explode on me, and now you're saying 'hey'! What is up with you?"

Rashid snorts. "Me? Have you looked at yourself lately? This whole 'friendly with District 9' thing is messed up! Why do you think of yourself as the one who fixes everything? Ruma was lonely, and you became her friend. You can't cure the world of all its problems, you know!"

He and I glare at each other for a minute before I look away at my pasta. I hate him with all my heart. The second we are in the arena, I swear, I will kill him.

A sweet-looking female Gamemaker steps into the room. "Rashid Thresher?"

Rashid stands up and exits the room, throwing a final look of hatred at me.

About ten minutes later, my name is called. I run my fingers through my hair as a last reminder to stay calm and enter the gymnasium. I know I'm in trouble the second I enter the room. All of the Gamemakers look bored and drunk, and I'm wondering what their lives must be like, planning the death of twenty-three teenagers each year.

However, there's nothing I can do but continue with the plan. Wait, I don't really have a plan. Nope, Marko and I never discussed it. What in the world am I going to do to impress the Gamemakers? Plant identification? No, too boring. Knife throwing? Although I have became good at that in the past three days, no. Then it hits me. Camouflage. Ruma and I have spent enough time in the camouflage session to know how to disguise ourselves well.

"Hello," I say to the rowdy group of adults. "We're going to play a little game today. I want all of you to close your eyes and plug your ears. Keep them like that for exactly five minutes. No cheating, please. When five minutes is up, you may open your eyes and resume your hearing. Good luck."

"Wait," one Gamemaker interrupts. "What are we looking for?"

I smile. "You'll see when five minutes is up, sir."

The group lets out a simultaneous grunt and one of the Gamemakers sets a timer for five minutes. They all close their weary eyes, put earplugs in their ears, and allow me to start.

I set to work on disguising myself. I choose a small section in the corner of the gym and swirl a pattern of mud and clay around my skin. I wrap my entire body in vines and paint my face green with berry juice. I put my hair up in a bun and settle myself into a bundle next to the station. With any luck, I look just like a bush.

When five minutes is up, I hear the Gamemakers shut off the timer and get up, momentarily confused. They are, no doubt, wondering if I bailed on them.

I finally hear one Gamemaker say that maybe she's hiding. In a way I am, but good luck finding me.

The Gamemakers spread out through the gym, searching everywhere. It takes every ounce of my being to keep still and soundless. I hear several of them pass by me, but they just continue muttering to themselves as they search all around the gym for me.

Finally, after about ten minutes, I hear one of the Gamemakers say, "Okay, fine, we give up, sweetie, where are you?"

I say nothing at first, in case they are playing a trick on me.

"Ayala?" another repeats.

I finally step out of my hiding place, covered in dried paint and leaves. The gasps of the Gamemakers echo around the huge gymnasium as I make my way back towards them.

"Thank for your attention," I say. "As you can see, camouflage is a very underestimated skill in the arena. It may be a strategy of the weak, but it's a successful one."

The Gamemakers continue staring at me for a while until one man clears his throat. "You are dismissed, Ayala Talons."

I just nod curtly at them and walk back to the elevators.

Who's the weak one now?

**A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for all the reviews and stuff. I just want to let you know that Ayala's name is from the book series **_**Uglies**_**; one of the characters in the books **_**Extras**_** is called Aya, I just added a '-la' to it. :)**


	7. Talley and Marko

Six: Talley and Marko

I ride up in the elevators feeling proud. _That was brilliant! _I think to myself. There's no way that Rashid or any of the other tributes had such an insinuating training session. I'm confident that I'll get a fabulous score.

When I arrive back at the floor for District 12, I find Talley and Marko banging on Rashid's door, begging him to join them to talk.

"Rashid!" Talley says, rapping on the door with her delicate fingers. "Darling, please come out!

"NO!" I hear an annoyed voice coming from inside Rashid's room, which sounds nothing like Rashid.

Marko sighs. "Talley, just leave him alone. I'm sure he's fine. He's just a little worried about his score, that's all."

"What's going on?" I ask anxiously, tapping Talley on the shoulder.

Talley turns around, takes one look at me, and screams. Marko turns around as well and puts his hand to his chest.

"Ayala, is that you? What happened?" they both say.

I look down at myself, all covered in clay and paint, which by now has molded in drying into my skin. I realize that this is what scared them. I'm now surprised that no one who saw me on my way to the elevators fainted on sight.

I grin sheepishly. "Oh, nothing, just something from my training session. I'll go wash it off."

"You go do that," Talley mutters. "You look like a person on a gypsy parade float on New Year's Eve."

I shake my head, as usual, having no idea what she's talking about. "But wait, what's going on? Why is Rashid locked in his room?"

Talley looks uncomfortably at the door to his room, as if she's hoping that Rashid will come out and give explanation himself. "We have no idea. He barged up here after his session and slammed the door to his room. We've been knocking for ten minutes trying to get him out and at least tell us what happened."

I can't help but feel worried. "I hope he's alright."

Marko rolls his eyes. "Just leave him alone," he repeats. "I'm sure he'll be fine after watching some television or something. And as for you, Ayala, go take a shower. You look like you could use one."

Talley giggles, and together they walk down to their rooms.

After a long, confident shower and dressing in my pretty reaping dress (I figure I may as well look pretty for the presentation of the scores), I lay down in bed and read a magazine that I find in one of my numerous drawers. It's about the hideous fashions here in the Capitol. It's quite disturbing, so when Talley knocks on the door to let me know dinner is ready, I'm ready to eat.

When I arrive in the dining room, I'm shocked to see that I'm the first one there, besides Talley and Marko.

"Wow, I'm actually first for something," I say with a hint of sarcasm.

Talley shakes her head, suppressing a smile.

Just then, the elevator doors open, and Serabie and Philli walk into the dining room a few seconds later.

"Philli!" I say, standing up in my chair. "Hi!"

"What, I don't get a warm welcome?" Serabie says with a grin to let me know she's joking. "I like your dress, Ay. It's nice."

I give them each a hug, and sit back in my seat at the table. "What are you guys doing here?"

"What, we can't be here to support you two with a little dinner and congratulate you on your scores?" Philli asks, pretending to be hurt.

I laugh. I love my stylist.

Just then, Rashid walks into the room, looking like he just got in a heated argument with an older sibling. He's obviously been upset for the past hour or so, and I can't help but wonder what happened in his session to cause him to act like this. I don't dare say anything, though.

Dinner is served. Salty soup, roasted chicken, and even slices of chocolate cake. I'm so starving that I manage to eat two bowls of soup before anyone has barely even lifted their spoons.

The awkward tension that Rashid created when he arrived at the table has prevented anyone from talking, but now Marko speaks up and starts to talk with Serabie about the weather or something. I'm not paying attention. I look over at Rashid, trying to meet his eyes. _What happened? _I mentally say to him.

_Nothing, _he says back with a slight shake of his head, even forcing on a smile to convince me. But I know better.

"Okay, guys, that's enough," Marko finally says when Serabie nods over to Rashid. "How did you guys do today?"

I jump in to stall Rashid some time. "I don't think I was too bad. I did this little hide and seek game with the Gamemakers with my camouflage skills. I think they were impressed. I'm surprised that I really got their attention."

Marko nods, then looks over at Rashid. "Rashid?"

Rashid finally looks up. "I hit one of the Gamemakers with a weight and nearly shot another with an arrow."

"What?" we all scream.

Rashid sighs. "I didn't mean to of course. The weights were just so heavy and the arrows were so rigid, they didn't do anything. To make things worse, I missed the target almost every time and got booed by several Gamemakers, even thought that might have been because they were drunk."

Talley covers her mouth with her hands, while the rest of us stare at him in shock. Serabie and Philli are probably wishing that they stayed home now.

"So, yeah," Rashid says bitterly. "I'm dead."

The rest of us don't say anything. We know he's right.

After dinner, we all head to the sitting room to watch the scores being broadcasted on television. For each tribute, a photo is shown and a number from one to twelve is given, to signify how terribly they did in training. No one has even gotten a twelve, and no one probably will.

The tributes from 1, 2, and 4 (the Careers, we call them at home) as expected get in the eight-to-ten range. Most of them probably have been training their whole lives for this moment, even if they were voted for. Ruma pulls an eight, so I know taking her as an ally must've been a pretty good choice.

District 12 is last, as usual. Rashid holds his breath eagerly awaiting his score.

A nine flashes up on the screen.

Talley, Marko, and the stylists burst into cheers and bury Rashid in hugs. Rashid's anxious frown has turned into a smile, and he's hugging them back joyfully.

"Guess I wasn't that bad, huh?" he says, looking over at me. His little smile is irritating me.

"Guess not," I say flatly. In truth, I'm thinking that he must've been lying. If he really did do as badly as he said, he would not have gotten a nine.

A few seconds later, my school photo shows up on the screen with a six next to it.

The room goes silent. Talley looks up at the screen and looks over at me sympathetically. Philli looks at Serabie in horror. Marko looks like he's about to faint.

"Good job, Ayala," Rashid whispers softly.

"Shut up!" I scream, standing up suddenly, starling everyone. "How the hell did I get a six? And you got a nine? I did way better than you, no doubt! I dressed myself up in berries and paint and wrapped myself in vines! It took fifteen minutes to wash all of that stupid coloring off! I deserve way more then that! Is this some kind of sick joke? Argh!"

I run out of the room, feeling like I'm about to cry.

"Ayala!" I hear Talley call behind me. "Come back here right now!"

But I don't listen. No one can make me listen now. It's over.

I had thought I had a chance. With Philli's brilliant costume idea and my new ally, Ruma, I had thought that I actually had a chance it these Games. But now, with just one flashing number on the screen, my life is toast. How could this have happened? I thought of a brilliant plan on the spot. I executed it with perfection. I left the Gamemakers stunned and surprised. Isn't that what they want? Don't they want to be left wondering what more I can do?

I toss myself back onto my bed, without even changing out of my tan dress. I fall asleep in less than five minutes, wanting my life back. Wanting it all back now.

* * *

The next morning, Talley does not wake me up. I wake up naturally at seven thirty, and the anguish of last night comes back to me in an instant. I grimace and take a shower, preparing for the day.

Today, Talley and Marko are going to coach us on our interviews. Four hours with each of them, with Rashid as well. I chose an outfit from the back of the closet, something that I've never seen before. A plain purple shirt with swirls on it and white leggings paired with a black skirt. I need something new to forget the pain of yesterday.

Rashid, Talley, and Marko are eating when I enter the dining room. I sit down at my usual spot on the table and avoid looking at any of them as I fill myself with stew and more divine plates of food.

Finally, Rashid clears his throat. "So, um, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"Right," Marko says, before looking over at me.

I glare back at him. "What's the problem? Let's go. I'm done."

Marko raises his eyebrows. "Well, there's been a change of plans, Ayala. You're each going to be coached separately now."

"What? Why?"

Marko's eyes pierce mine. "Because I said so, sweetie. You'll each have four hours for with Talley for presentation and four with me for content. You start with Talley, Ayala. Go."

I don't disobey. But I was right about Marko from the beginning. He's a total freak who has no intention of helping us at all.

Talley leads me to my room and puts me in a gown and high heels, which she pulls from the back of the closet. There's a bit of adjusting and finally she tells me to stroll across the room to practice my walking. I wobble uncontrollably in the crazy shoes and Talley sighs. When I finally tackle walking, I throw my shoe across the room and sit on my bed.

"Ayala!" Talley shouts. "You almost hit me in the head!"

"I'm sorry," I say truthfully. Then I put my head in my hands and rub my eyes.

I feel Talley sit down next to me. "Ayala," she says. "What's wrong?"

"I want to know why I got a six, and why I'm being coached separately now."

Talley sighs. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Yes." I glare at her. "I want a straight answer."

"I can't even begin to guess why you got a six, sweetie. I can't control what the Gamemakers think. I'm sure you did a magnificent job. I can tell by the way you're reacting that you deserve more than a six. As for the separate coaching, well - "

"Answer me," I hiss.

"It's Rashid. He's embarrassed to be seen with you now, honey. He said before breakfast that since you got a six he thinks you're weak. I told him that he was being rude, but Marko said that it wasn't a problem. I'm so sorry, Ayala." By now, she is sobbing.

I am momentarily stunned. I know that I'm not exactly as strong as he is with his archery and weightlifting skills, but I'd thought he'd have the decency to not point that out to me. What kind of boy is he? At least, now I know why he was voted out of our district: he gains people's trust, then stabs them in the heart.

"Well," I say quietly. "That's encouraging."

"And now we're supposed to work on your smiling!" Talley says with another gasp. "How can you smile now after what I've told you?"

I put on a fake smile and look up at her. "It's no problem."

Talley claps her hands together and grins. "That's great! Now can you say, 'Hi, my name is Ayala Talons' just like that?"

The rest of the session with Talley continues like this. She makes me smile as I pretend to walk up to the stage, and I even manage to laugh at several of the answers I give.

"All right, that's the best I can do," Talley says after four hours. "Good luck, Ayala. You can go eat lunch now."

After lunch, Marko leads me over to the sitting room and sits next to me on the couch. Then he proceeds to glower at me while crossing his arms.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask, still irritated at him from earlier.

Marko sighs. "I don't know what to do with you, Ayala. You seem nice enough to present as likable, but sometimes the tiniest things can set you off like a bomb. You were voted by your peers to participate in this year, so there must be something about you that others don't know. Exactly how you present yourself tomorrow will decide what I can get you in terms of sponsors."

"What's Rashid's approach? Or am I not allowed to know?"

"Humble. He's very nice on the outside and can manipulate anyone to do whatever he wants. But at the same time, he gives the sense that the world doesn't revolve around him," Marko says. "But you? I don't know what to do with you."

"Well, don't not know," I say. "Can't I just be myself? I don't want to change my entire personality just to impress some stupid sponsor people."

"Ayala, don't talk like that," Marko scolds. "Sponsors are the only people who can keep you alive in the arena."

"So? Why can't they just like me for who I am?" I cry.

Marko shakes his head. "Fine. Just answer the questions as yourself and we'll start from there."

Marko asks me questions as the interviewer, and I try the best I can to answer them honestly. But soon enough, the anger I've been trying so hard to hide bursts out when Marko asks me about my training score, and I scream, "None of your freaking business!"

"That's it, sweetie," Marko says with a tight smile. "I give up. I've tried help you, but I've you've done is give me grief. Just answer the questions tomorrow and I'll try not to throw up when you embarrass me with your answers."

Dinner that night is awkward. Talley and I chat a little bit about the actual interviews, and Rashid and Marko discuss the weather. The whole thing feels strange and fake. How I wish I was back home with Mahalo, drinking leftover juice from our restaurant and playing jacks.

That night I cry myself to sleep, feeling guilty about the way I reacted last night after the scores were presented. Talley and Marko really have been trying to help me, but all I did was scream like a spoiled kid. I don't deserve any of this treatment. I hope that when we finally get into the arena, Ruma wins or something. If I became victor, I don't know how I could live with myself.


	8. Interviews

**A/N: I wrote this chapter without the book in front of me, to make sure that I didn't copy anything from the book. If I did, I'm sorry, but I own nothing except the story.**

Seven: Interviews

The next morning is a state of confusion. My prep team greets me the second I am up and leads me to my huge bathroom to get me ready for the interviews that night.

"Why are we already getting prepared if the interviews aren't until night?" I ask, my voice still groggy from sleep.

Cecila laughs. "Don't be silly, Ay. Do you think it will only take a few minutes for us to prepare you for the most important life of your life?"

"Yes," Sakami coos, dashing around the room looking for a hairbrush. "It will take a while to transform you into a beautiful star, better than you already are!"

I laugh out loud at the rhyme.

Mona scrubs me down and takes charge of my skin and nails, drawing swirls and lines in red pencil that I'm pretty sure represents more blood, painting my nails a dark maroon color. Sakami does my hair, curling it, then straightening it, then braiding it into a long rope that wraps around my head in a crown. More strands of red and orange are woven into the braid. Cecila covers my face in makeup, but I tell her to keep it as natural as possible and she nods.

The whole time my team is working on me, I stare straight ahead and mentally practice what my interview will be like. I silently vow not to mess up royally or say something insulting that will leave Talley and Marko in tears.

After several hours of work into the late afternoon, Philli finally enters the room with a covered dress. I'm excited to see it because I didn't design this outfit and I want it to be original and different.

"Are you ready?" Philli asks with a nervous smile.

"Yes," I say, grinning like an insane person.

I close my eyes as the prep team helps me into my dress and then my shoes, which to my delight are simple flats, not messing heels like the ones Talley practiced me with.

When I open my eyes after the team adjusts the fabric and murmurs in content, I am shocked to see that the whole 'blood splattering' thing and 'black-and-white' patterning is still in effect. My dark red dress reaches the ground and finishes off in a shimmer and is very intriguing in simplicity. There's a low cut collar on the top, with black and white sparkles and swirls. Unlike most dresses I have seen, this one has three-quarter length sleeves which makes me sigh in relief, because my arms are already beginning to feel cold with fear. The finish is the startling various rips in the sleeves and upper half of the dress to reveal a black netting underneath.

"Whoa," Sakami mutters, and the other nod in agreement.

"This is so cool!" I finally say, turning around to Philli. "Thank you!"

"You're welcome, Ay," he says. "It looks great on you."

Philli dismisses my team and walks out to my room, sitting on the bed and motioning me to do the same. I take a sit next to him in the dress, trying not to disturb the fabric while I sit.

"Are you ready for the interview?" he asks.

I sigh. "I think so. I mean, I don't know what to do. Marko said that I'm like a bomb, which I guess means that I have a short temper or whatever. He said just to answer the questions and try not to seem too freaky."

Philli nods pitifully and looks away. "You know, I think that the interviews are a huge waste of time. What's the point of spending all day getting dressed up for something that's only three minutes long?"

I relax into a grin. "I know, right? And most of the interviews are pretty boring anyway. Julio Flickerman just asks the same questions over and over again for each tribute."

"Julio tries his best though," Philli tells me. "He can make anyone seem unique by the way he responds to an answer."

I consider this for a moment, and nod. But I'm still a bit nervous about what will be asked of me.

"When you answer the questions, try to think of someone back home who you would be talking to, like one of your friends," Philli says.

"I don't have any friends back home," I reply quietly. "Well, I do, but my best friend and I got into a fight before I left." My throat still burns at the thought of Cory.

"Then, imagine that you've made up and you guys are friends again, and you're having a normal conversation with him. Okay?"

I smile. "It's worth a try."

Pretty soon, it's time to go. The interviews will take place on a stage in front of the Training Center. There will be cameras and prestigious people from all over the Capitol watching. Anything I do or say can be taken to my disadvantage on the screens.

At the elevator landing, we group with Talley, Marko, Rashid and Serabie before heading down. Rashid is wearing a suit that looks nothing like my dress. It's is a simple black and white suit with yellow splashes. Nothing special. Talley and Marko are rolling their eyes at my outfit. I say hi to them and Rashid and, to my surprise, Rashid smiles and says hi back.

The elevator opens of the ground level of the building. All of us walk outside and around the constructed stage to meet up with the other tributes. Marko and Talley head off to meet up with the other mentors and escorts, while a uniformed guard leads me and Rashid to a huge semicircle right behind the stage where we will sit during the interviews.

Twenty-two other tributes are already sitting in their spots. Some looks nervous as they run through their interviews in their heads, while others look bored. I see Ruma and give her a small smile, but she just nods and goes back to talking with her district partner.

Rashid and I sit down at the end of the semicircle. I will be second to last, since the girl tribute proceeds the boy tribute, unlike training sessions. I wish I could be closer to the beginning so I wouldn't have to worry about it for too long.

I can hear the crowd outside the curtains start to murmur with excitement. The City Circle is filled with everyone is the Capitol and the streets surrounding are filled with people. Various newscasters and reporters are reporting on the interviews and I can hear Julio Flickerman on stage greeting the audience warmly. Every citizen in Panem is either watching with rapt attention or watching because they must.

Julio Flickerman is a strange little man. He's very old and word is that his son, Caesar, is going to replace him soon. You wouldn't be able to tell all that from his looks though. They do surgery here in the Capitol to make people look younger than they really are. It's a fashion we cannot imagine following.

All too soon, it begins. The girl tribute from District One stands up to join Julio for her interview. I can only hear bits and pieces of it, but from her voice I can tell she's as cool as a cucumber.

The interviews pass by, and I am not particularly convinced that I should fear any of these kids. They were all voted out of their districts, so there must be something about them that's off. I'm worried that I'll mess up or something, but when the boy tribute from District 3 trips and falls onto the stage, right next to Julio, I know my interview will be fine. At least, better than his went. He ended end having to be transported offstage to the paramedics because he was bleeding.

I spot Philli and Serabie out on the stylists' platform and Philli gives me a wave and a subtle thumbs up. I wave back and straighten my shoulders, like Talley told me to. If we are to get any attention from the sponsors, we have to look presentable.

The twelve year old from District 6 is sweet and charming, and I'm wondering why she was voted out. She seems so nice. The boy from District 8 has a permanent scowl and a lisp. He looks like someone you'd want to stay away from if you saw them on the streets.

Ruma's interview goes well. She's dressed in a silk wraparound dress and matching headband, that catches the lights in a way that makes you blink.

Ruma shakes Julio's hand and waves at the audience pleasantly. They talk for several minutes but I pay no attention until Julio brings up Ruma's training score of eight, which is impressive for someone her age.

"So, Ruma," Julio says into the microphone. "I've heard that you are quite the baker, no?"

Ruma blushes. "Well, yes, I help out in the bakery back in District 9, and working with the baker and his son has given me some knowledge with camouflage and knives."

Julio looks impressed. "That's wonderful. What do you feel your biggest advantage in the arena will be?"

Ruma hesitates, then looks out at the crowd. "I feel as if my biggest advantage will be that I am able to persevere in what I want. If I want something done, it will be done, no matter what the consequences will be. I never give up, and I work hard for my goal."

Julio is momentarily silenced, then is interrupted by the buzzer. "Thank you, and good luck to Ruma Cutworths, female tribute from District 9."

The audience claps hard, and Ruma sits back down. I give her a smile again, and this time, she returns it gratefully.

Ruma's district partner, Edwin, makes no impression on me. He's tall and lanky and looks underfed. For some reason I am reminded of the Seam children back at home. They always wander around the district looking as if they may never see food again.

Several minutes later, after District 10 and 11, Julio Flickerman calls "Ayala Talons", and I feel my feet walking up onto the stage. I reach up and shake his hand politely, trying to make a good impression. I know everyone is watching me now.

"Hello, Ayala," Julio says. "So your costume in the opening ceremonies was designed by you, right? Tell us about that."

I clear my throat and begin. "Well, when my stylist Philli told me that I'd be designing my own costume, I was a bit shocked. I mean, I'd never designed anything before, so I was sure that would go terribly. But when I saw everyone's reaction during the ceremonies, well, I guess something changed inside me. I don't know what it was, but maybe something inside me was saying that I had a chance, and that I could do it."

Julio smiles. "That's wonderful, I'm glad that you have such an optimistic way of thinking. So you believe that you could win the whole thing?"

I shrug. "Well, I still think the odds are highly against it, but I will try my best and I'll keep an open mind on it."

"Good," Julio says absentmindedly, peering down at his note cards. "Um, Ayala, what do you miss about home the most?"

I open my mouth to say my family, but then I realize that that isn't the truth. I do miss my family yes, but I miss my friends more. I miss how Cory and I always ate lunch together, and how we hung out after school and did out homework. I miss Tayana and my other friends, too, but Cory stands out in my mind.

"I miss my friends the most," I say quietly.

"What?" Julio asks. Either he didn't hear me, or he wants me to elaborate. I'm guessing the later.

"I miss my friends," I say louder. "I miss how they were always there when I was sad, and how they almost always made me feel better. I miss them so much." I stare directly into a camera and blink several times, hoping that Cory would notice that I am talking about him.

Julio is stunned into silence and slowly recomposes himself. "Thank you, Ayala. Yes, I'm sure that all of our tributes here are missing their friends back at home."'

Fortunately, the buzzer rings at that moment, cutting him off. I mentally sigh and look out in the crowd for Marko, trying to see his expression. When I finally catch him sitting next to Talley, he gives me a wane smile and nods.

"Good luck to Ayala Talons, female tribute from District 12."

The audience applauds, and I walk back to my seat, my head held high.

I am still proud of my interview through most of Rashid's time with Julio. He's laughing up jokes and solemnly nodding at the serious questions, but nothing is catching my eye.

"So, Rashid, what do you plan to do if you win?" Julio asks, near the end of Rashid's time.

Rashid answers without hesitation. "I will make sure that all of the families in my neighborhood have enough to eat and enough materials to live by. I will also make sure that I, as the first victor from my district, will set an example for future tributes."

"Oh, yes," Julio says with a nod. "Your district, along with Six, Ten, and Eleven, has not had a victor to date. How do you feel about this?"

I snort. How does he feel about that? What kind of questions are written on those stupid white cards?

"I feel that this year, that is going to change." Then, unexpectedly, he turns around and looks over at me. But immediately he turns back around so quickly that I feel that I just imagined it.

Julio does not catch the quick glance. "How wonderful," he says with a hint boredom. The interviews are almost over; I'm pretty sure all he wants to do know is go back to his house and sleep. The buzzer does not sound though, so Julio is forced to ask one more question. "Rashid, tell everyone what you would do if you were in the arena with only one other tribute and he tells you that he doesn't want to kill you?"

Rashid gives a frown. "I would do what I would have to do, depending on the circumstances, Julio. If I really wanted to win, I would kill him. But if the other tribute were my ally or someone else I cared about, I would not."

"Well said," Julio says just as the buzzer goes off. "Good luck to Rashid Thresher, male tribute from District 12."

The anthem starts playing in our ears, and we have to stand out of respect. I look up at the live television and am relived to see that Rashid and I didn't draw much attention with the crowd. I like it that way. Hidden and anonymous.

I ride up the elevators with Ruma and three other tributes. Before Ruma gets off at her floor, she whispers to me, "Good luck. See you tomorrow."

That's right. Tomorrow we will be in the arena. I could be dead in a little over twenty-four hours. _Stop thinking like that, _I scold myself.

I walk over to Talley's room to say good bye, since we won't see her or Marko in the morning. Talley doesn't say a word; she just gives me a hug and tells me to remember home. Marko nods and wishes me good luck.

I acknowledge Rashid with reluctant stare, and he does the same.

"Good luck," I say.

"You too," he replies.

And I walk to my room without looking back.

**A/N: I'm not feeling this story anymore. Whenever I sit down to type it up, I'm either blank or totally stuck on something. This chapter took me five days to type up. Please, give me more reviews/story alerts/favorites if you want this story to go on. I'll love you forever. :)**


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